


make you feel like you've been blessed

by bluegothic



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Songfic, pining!Seth, post-season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 18:32:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8764339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluegothic/pseuds/bluegothic
Summary: There is still a lot of shit they have to deal with, even after they’ve stopped the apocalypse. Or maybe because they stopped it, depending on which way you decide to look at it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own FDTD or any of its characters. This is based on the song 'Cure' by Barcelona, which apparently I can no longer listen to without thinking of these two doing it.  
> This is set somewhere during undisclosed time between the last scene in the desert and the bank scene at the end of 3x10. Any mistakes are my own.  
> I should be updating my Neighbors AU, but I got stuck again. And this happened. This is the longest (and smuttiest) smut I've ever written, so I hope you enjoy!

_ “So take away all my sin / give me a sweet prayer on my lips  _

_ And take it off, take me in / I wanna make love to you  _

_ Put your hands on my chest / I'll make you feel like you've been blessed” _

  
  


There is still a lot of shit they have to deal with, even after they’ve stopped the apocalypse. Or maybe because they stopped it, depending on which way you decide to look at it.

Either way, it’s not easy on any of them, but it’s especially hard on Kate. Richard returns back to his (new) old self the fastest, but not without difficulty; it isn’t lost on anyone, the far-off look he gets in his eyes when he’s left to his own devices, or when he thinks they’re not looking. His face hardens, and it becomes even harder to tell what he’s thinking.

Seth, for the most part, manages to pretend he’s okay. It catches up with him sometimes, especially where Kate is involved. But it’s the price he has to pay, and he accepted that before he really even had to. He’s never been whole, anyway. 

But Kate… she’s lost a lot she could never get back. Everything that she knew, everything that she was. She said so herself, right before she marched into hell, when Seth was sure he would never see her again. Before the world almost ended.

Before his world almost ended.

Some nights she doesn’t sleep, especially at the beginning of all this… whatever it is, that they have now. She’ll sit up in her bed and watch television with the sound off. Always quiet, focused attention. Seth stops asking if she was okay after a while. It’s a loaded question.

He isn’t sure when it was that she started crawling into his bed, but that soon becomes what she does now when she can’t sleep. She’ll lift the corner of his comforter and slip into the space beside him, like he’s something her nightmares would be afraid of.

But she’s not always a little girl afraid of the dark. She’s become a lot bolder now, too, despite everything. In every regard, but particularly with him. Kate’s always been able to present herself as confident and capable, even when she wasn’t, but it’s almost all genuine now. It is probably why she joins him in bed, and why neither of them say anything about it.

Seth suspects it’s because she’s seen him soften.

He kind of hates it and he knows that it’s stupid, but it’s like it fucks with his edge. Until one day when he’s driving, Richie asleep beneath a blanket in the back seat because it’s the middle of the day, and his hand is on the gear shift when Kate places hers over his, fingers curving over his knuckles. The contact, small as it is, sends a jolt through his body, shooting through his veins in a way even caffeine couldn’t do.

She looks at him after a moment, reading his face, and then pushes her sunglasses up and returns her attention to the road.

She doesn’t move her hand from its place over his until she knows he needs her to.

  
  


Kate takes to their ways sooner than both Seth and Richie really expect. It takes Richie by complete surprise, and even though Seth knows what she’s capable of with her mind set to something, he’s considerably impressed when she strolls into her first heist beside them with her shoulders straight and head high.

She’s practically giggling afterward as they successfully make their way back to their car with the cash, and he finds it almost endearing, in a twisted way. As endearing as crime could get.

Richie jokes at Kate’s expense. “You would think we just stole a pair of Justin Bieber tickets.” 

She rolls her eyes and shoves him in the shoulder. Richie shoves her back, and then steps ahead of them, eager to get back to the car. The sun was going down, casting enough shadows for him to manage, but not enough for him to be completely in the clear.

Kate stays in step with Seth, taking his hand into hers and giving it a tight squeeze before letting go and rushing to join Richie at the car.

The hand-holding becomes a thing after that. It has been so long that Seth has had any real kind of human interaction that it startles him every time.

Seth will be driving with Kate in the front seat and she’ll grab hold of his hand, her soft fingers brushing across his rough skin. She’ll take his hand on their walks from the car up to their room. She never holds his hand going into a job, but she always does walking out of one, usually with a spring in her step, even on the chance that it goes sour.

She does it so much that it eventually feels natural to him.

And that’s the beginning of everything else.

She takes his hand one night after crawling into bed with him. Although they have never been physical with each other beyond the hand holding, Kate shares his bed so often, they wordlessly agree that there is no point in even asking for a room with two beds anymore. 

He can tell Richie has something to say about it, but he’s grateful that he doesn’t.

His fingers lace around hers absentmindedly, but his attention is still on a records book from a local business, studying the details, trying to formulate the beginnings of some sort of plan.

She laughs quietly, her right hand joining her left over his own. “Both of my hands together are still smaller than yours.”

He allows himself to tear his eyes away from the book to look at where their bodies were joined. His mouth twitches up into a half-smile.

“Well, that makes sense. You’re half a person, in terms of size.”

“You’re half a person in terms of intellect.”

He cocks his head to the side, letting her have this. “Fair point,” he says, trying to return his focus to the book in front of him. The numbers have long since stopped making any sense. He rubs his temples and finishes the rest of the scotch that’s in the glass on the bedside table.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, leaning her head on his shoulder to get a look at the page he is looking at. She smells like lavender and wine.

“The more I look at this, the more I think they’re using some kind of code.”

“So have Richie look at it tomorrow. That’s what his beautiful brain is for. Isn’t this more his area of expertise anyway?”

He shrugs. She isn’t wrong. “Wanted to take a crack at it.”

“”Try taking a crack at relaxing for once,” she says, rubbing his forearm with her hand. “You’re always so tense when you fall asleep. It’s like sleeping next to a rock.”

“Hey, every time you had the choice, you still slept next to a rock.”

It’s the first time either of them have ever verbally addressed their sleeping arrangement. 

“Yeah, well,” Kate says after a few seconds, “you’re not the worst rock in the world.”

He rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “I guess I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She laughs. “Especially your hands,” she says and blushes furiously once she’s realizes what she's said. “I mean, they’re rough. Like rocks.”

He pulls his hand away from hers and tosses the book to the floor next to their bed, deciding that he’s finished with it for the night. He sinks into the mattress.

“Are you going to watch any TV tonight?”

She shakes her head. “Nah, I’m pretty beat.”

“Me too,” he says, closing his eyes.

She turns off the light that’s coming from the lamp next to her and slips into the space next to him, burrowing herself into his side, a little closer than he’s used to her being.

“Seth?” she mumbles against his arm. She continues even though he doesn’t reply. “I like your hands,” she confesses, yawning. “Even if they’re old and rough.”

He can’t help but laugh at that. “I like yours even though they’re dainty.”

If it’s the dark or the fact that they’re both tired and a little bit buzzed, he’s not sure, but it’s a small moment of honesty for the both of them, and a moment of clarity for him.

He’s always known that he’s cared for Kate in some way, and became absolutely certain when their eyes locked at the gates of hell, but he’s never been sure of  _ how _ he loved her until then.

Now, all he’s sure of is that he’s screwed.

  
  


Her touch becomes torture after that night.

Anytime they come into contact, it feels like she’s burning him. And when she’s not touching him, he’s frozen. He’s not certain which he prefers, but he would gladly be without either.

He’s too weak to tell her to stop, though. Probably because he knows he doesn’t really want her to. He finds himself wondering when it was that he became a goddamn masochist.

What’s worse is that he has no idea what to do with any of this. Emotions have never been his strong suit; his whole life, he’d had a hard time expressing them, and an even more impossible time understanding them.

There are times where he’s sure she feels the same way. She’ll just look at him or rest her hands, which are always cold, in his hands, and he’ll know. She  _ has _ to. But then he remembers that there’s no way she could, given all that they’ve been through. She loves him, sure, but in the way that Kate loves everybody. She has always seen good where there isn’t any.

So he pushes the thought to the back of his mind; kills it before he lets it consume him. 

That, at least, is something he knows how to do.

  
  


She kisses him first, and it completely throws him off.

The three of them are enjoying a night off in a ritzy casino resort in Cancún. Normally, it isn’t like them to do something so conspicuous. They’re bold, but they’re not stupid. The quickest way to get caught is to flash your money around, especially when your faces are already on a multiple wanted lists across the country.

But it’s Kate’s 19th birthday, and Richie had insisted on it so much for weeks leading up to it that they eventually give in. Seth’s not sure if it’s a culebra thing, but it has become increasingly more difficult to say no to his brother.

So there they were, the three Geckos, taking the entire casino by storm because with Richie’s enhanced talents, it is impossible for them to lose.

They buy a round of champagne for everyone at the blackjack table at the end of the night, Richie delivering an affectionate toast to the birthday girl.

“It is so weird to think that you’re only 19,” he says, holding up his flute of champagne. “It’s felt like I’ve known you for ages now, even if it’s hardly been, what? Two years? Jesus. Well, thanks for sticking with us, Kate. And thank you for everything else.”

She laughs and clinks her glass against theirs, her eyes lingering on Seth, who has purposely been avoiding her gaze since his brother’s toast began.

He wonders if she expects him to add anything; in fact, he almost dreads it. It’s not the right kind of place for him to be sincere, and he doesn’t want to give her anything half-assed. It fills him with more relief than he knows how to describe when she drops her gaze and drinks her champagne.

She asks him if he would join her on a walk later in the evening, when Richie is making a killing - and a spectacle himself - at mini-baccarat. He accepts without hesitation, because it’s her birthday, because she’s Kate, because his brother is bringing shame to the family name.

They wind up having to stay inside the casino because it’s pouring outside, so they walk through the hotel hallways in the upper levels. She steps along side him, their hands locked lazily at their side. She’s wearing a silver dress that falls mid-thigh. They had gotten specifically for the occasion without even checking the price tag. And even though Seth has technically seen her in less - her sleepwear which consists of short shorts and a thin camisole - every night for the past couple of months, it almost feels like this is the most he’s ever seen of her.

“When I was little, we stayed in this really nice hotel once,” she recalls, letting her hand graze against the adorned walls as she walked. “And I mean, I was really little. Before Scott came along. I don’t remember a lot about it but the wallpaper looked a lot like this. All gold and shiny. I felt like I was in a castle.”

“A castle with a wet bar and a bingo hall?”

She laughs. “Yeah, well.” She pauses and then shrugs. “If this were my kingdom, I don’t think I’d complain.”

“Is it your new dream in life to be a hotel heiress?”

She brings her hand to her face, her cheeks a ruddy pink color from the few glasses of champagne she’d had.

“My dream is to be the baddest hombre the West’s ever seen,” she replies, shooting blanks at him with her finger gun.

“I think someone’s had a few too many,” Seth says with a laugh.

“If you can’t get drunk in Mexico on your birthday, what’s the point in anything?”

He smiles. “You’ve got a point there, princess.”

Kate shakes her head. “Not a princess,” she corrects him. “A queen.”

He’s trying hard not to laugh at her, because this should not be that funny to him.

They turn to face another elevator, ready to continue their stroll onto the next floor, which happens to be the floor they’re staying on. The doors open and she leads him in, still holding his hand as she leans against the wall.

“I’m not that drunk, you know,” she tells him. “I mean, I  _ am _ drunk. But I’m not, like, wasted.”

All he does is nod in response, because he really doesn’t know what to say.

“I’m just... happy, I guess. Which is strange.”

He nods in agreement, selecting the floor number on the control panel in front of him.

“To tell you the truth, the minute we drove into Mexico, I never thought I’d ever be happy again. That’s when I had officially abandoned all hope.”

That hurts a little, because all it does is remind him that everything bad that’s happened to her since then is directly his fault. That he not only corrupted her innocence, but robbed her of the life she deserved.

“I didn’t think I could be happy with you. Ever. But... I strangely am.”

That makes him ache in a completely different way. The door dings and opens on the next floor, but they don’t get off.

“Yeah?” he asks, tilting his head back and biting the inside of his cheek. He doesn’t recognize sound of his own voice. “Good.”

If there was ever going to be a good time to kiss her, it’s now. But he hesitates for too long, and then she clears her throat, and turns her attention to the open door.

“This is our floor,” she tells him, and he waits for her to lead them out into the hall.

She doesn’t.

Instead, Kate closes the space between them, and just as the elevator doors start closing them back into the metal box, she presses her lips against his.

It’s a brief kiss, probably the most chaste kiss he has had with anyone since he was a teenager, but it almost physically knocks him off his feet.

She steps away from him just as soon as it happens, though, hastily pressing the door open button and rushing out of the elevator, leaving him to stand there alone, head spinning and skin buzzing.

The door to their hotel room is locked when he gets there, and it doesn’t open even after he tries knocking a few times.

This has been at the root of his fear all along; for all his faults, Seth’s instinct is rarely wrong about anything, give or take a few pretty colossal exceptions. Kate is probably one of the only straight woman in the world he couldn’t convince to want him that way. And it bothers him more than he cares to admit to himself, even if he knows he doesn’t deserve her.

He bunks with Richie that night, feeding him some lie about saying something that upset Kate and her needing to be alone. It isn’t unbelievable, or even very far from the truth for that matter, but it upsets Richie all the same, who scolds him for not giving the girl peace  _ on her birthday _ of all nights.

The next morning, when he heads downstairs for complimentary breakfast, Kate is already sitting there with three tall paper cups in front of her, her head resting in her hand, red hair draping over her eyes. She looks up when she realizes someone has sat down at the table.

“One of those is a horchata for Richie,” she says, and sounds awful.

“The snake sleeps until noon,” he reminds her. “Kate, it’s 8 in the morning. Go upstairs and get back to bed. You must be exhausted. You look like shit.”

She ignores his last comment. “I am. I  _ slept _ like shit last night,” she groans, grimacing at her own cup of coffee when she tries to bring it to her lips. She sets the beverage back down. She looks at him then, her expression softening. 

“Seth, I-”

He cuts her off. “Don’t. I know.”

He doesn’t know, not really. He has a feeling about what she’s going to say, and he’s willing to bet money on it, but he doesn’t know for sure. He just can’t bear to hear it out loud.

“I had a great birthday,” she says instead, changing the subject. 

“I never got to give you your gift,” he responds, digging into the inside pocket of his blazer.

“Please. You really did not have to get me a gift.”

“It’s a customary birthday thing. Look it up if you don’t believe me.”

“You didn’t get me anything when I turned 18,” she crosses her arms.

“I got you that handgun.”

She shakes her head. “You _gave_ _me_ a handgun. That you already owned. Not the same.”

“Thought that counts.”

“If you don’t know how to count,” she teases, and the tension that’d been buzzing between them seems to falter a little.

“Do you want it or not?”

She smiles in spite of herself. “Yeah. Of course I want it.”

He pulls out his hand to reveal a small gold cross on a fine chain, identical to the one she used to wear when he first met her.

“Sorry it isn’t gift-wrapped. Or in a box, even.”

Kate doesn’t seem to care about that, the delicate necklace dangling from her fingers. Her fingers brush across the religious symbol. “Who did you steal this from?”

“Fuck off,” he snaps, sucking his teeth. “I bought it.”

She laughs lightly and puts it on. “Thanks, Seth. It’s….” she trails off without finishing her thought.

He’s about to tell her not to mention it, that it was nothing, when she pushes the cup of coffee intended for him across the table.

“We’re in Cancún,” she says. “Let’s do something today.”

The something they end up deciding on is a spontaneous trip to the beach. Seth doesn’t really have any appropriate beach attire, which Kate finds a little amusing, given his obsession with, in her own words, “finding some mythical beach” when they’d first met. 

She forces him to buy a pair of shorts in the gift shop that say  _ VIVA MEXICO _ on one of the hems, the only thing the store had in black, and he pairs them with a tank top. She wears a color-blocked two piece bikini and her sunglasses, and if her dress last night had been too much, this is absolute misery. Of the best and worst kind.

It’s still relatively early in the day, but the beach is already filled with tourists. The two of them settle on a less populated spot, a good walk away from the hotel resorts, and lay two towels out in the sand.

“So. What do we do now?” he asks, watching her apply sunscreen to her arms.

“Well, I do not know about you, but I’m going for a swim.”

He winces; he knows how to swim, more or less, just prefers not to. “I’m good. I think I’ll just lay around and do nothing.”

The idea of doing nothing is not incredibly appealing to him, but it wins out over voluntarily stepping into the ocean.

“Suit yourself,” she says and marches off toward the shore.

He watches her as she moves, the swing of her hips and the curves of her thighs, and he feels hopeless and dirty. 

He shuts his eyes and tries to think about anything else, but all he can see is an image of her in her silver dress on the elevator, kissing him and then leaving him on his own.

  
  


A week later, they’re all sitting in a hotel room. Kate is cleaning their guns while Seth and Richie are at the table, counting money. His arm is still killing him from where a bullet grazed his shoulder earlier, but it’s nothing he can’t handle.

It’s like a scene out of an old movie, which Richie points out, naturally.

He takes his share and excuses himself, likely stepping out for blood. Seth isn’t sure of where Richie gets his supply from, and he doesn’t think he wants to know. As long as he’s not out killing people and making a mess, Seth really cannot care less. His brother ruffles Kate’s hair on his way out the door.

She stands up off the bed she’d been sitting on and crosses the room to join Seth at the table, taking the chair Richie had just vacated.

“So, what is the exact change we’re looking at here?”

“Fairly good, princess. About 4 and a half grand each,” he says, sliding the cash across the table.

She nods and accepts her share of the money.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Does it suck having to split the money three ways instead of two now?” she asks, biting her lip.

Her question takes him by surprise. “Not when we’re banking on three times as many scores,” he explains. “It all evens out pretty well.”

She smiles and stares at the cash in her hand, and then places it down on the table in front of them. And then her eyes drift to his shoulder, lingering on the fresh would, now covered up with a bandage Kate applied herself.

“How bad does that hurt?” she asks.

“It’s like a 5.”

“That’s kind of low-balling it, no? You practically got shot.”

“No. Almost,” he corrects her. “I almost got shot. I’ll pop a few more aspirin when it gets up to a 6 and I’ll be fine, Kate. It’s just a scrape. Don’t worry.”

“Life is weird,” she admits, and he doesn’t disagree with her, but doesn’t say so, either. “We have all died or almost died so many times. And here I am worried about your boo-boos.”

“Well, stop worrying about me,” he insists, and he can’t help but notice that her eyes are on his mouth now.

He doesn’t have time to pretend he’s not wondering what that means, because she stands up then and bends down, crashing her lips on top of his.

This time, she doesn’t pull away after a second; he has time to react, to give into it and let it happen, and he’s kissing her back before his brain even registers that it’s happening. That he’s kissing Kate Fuller.

She lowers herself onto him, hands on his shoulder for support, carefully minding his injury. When she pulls away, she’s almost breathless. Her eyes search his face for something. Seth’s not sure what she’s looking for.

He takes a chance then, leaning forward for another kiss. This time, he wraps one arm around her waist and rests his other hand on the back of her neck. She responds by pressing her body into his, and he swears he can feel her heart beating through his chest. 

Even though his brain is telling him how stupid this is, how this could be the end of a lot of things, it feels like the beginning.

  
  


Richie addresses the changes in their relationship before either of them do.

He asks him bluntly one night while sitting next to Seth in the car, waiting for Kate return with their takeout.

Seth, his mind drifting, turns to look at his brother and asks him to repeat himself.

So he does. “Is there something going on with you two?”

He doesn’t respond; simply turns his attention directly to the empty parking lot in front of them.

“Are you guys, like, a thing?” he persists. “Come on. I know you two sleep in the same bed. She’s always touching you. It’s been months now...“ Richie pauses to collect his thoughts, his eyebrows knotted. 

“Just don’t be an idiot,” he finally concludes with a sigh, just as Kate is approaching the car.

  
  


On an especially stormy night toward the end of Mexico’s wet season, Seth steps into their hotel room to find Kate watching television with the sound off. She hadn’t been feeling well that morning, leaving Seth and Richie to their own devices. 

It concerns him a little; she’s usually more vocal with him now, when she’s upset about something, but it seems like now that she doesn’t want to talk.

He slips into the bathroom to dry himself off with some towels, and slips out of his clothes until he’s just in his boxers, hanging them up on the door to dry off.

“Kate, are you gonna take a shower any time soon? Hot steam could probably get some creases out of my suit.”

She doesn’t answer him immediately. Her eyes slowly trail the space between the television and him. She blinks.

“I already took a shower,” she shakes her head.

“That’s alright. I’ll probably take one later.”

He takes the space next to her on the bed, pressing his lips against her shoulder. She turns to look at him and feigns a smile.

“Where’d you two go?”

“Just drove around. Looking for the next thing.” 

“Find anything?”

“Nothing good.”

She turns the television off and tosses the remote to the side. “I’ll go with you guys tomorrow. I’m feeling a lot better.”

“Oh, yeah?” he asks, because he is not sure if he really believes her. But he’s not going to press her on it. “Alright then,” his hand reassuringly pats her knee, “I’m glad to hear it.”

She turns and takes his face in her hands, pressing her mouth against the stubble on his cheek.

Before he can help himself, he’s lifting her and placing her onto his lap, using this position for easier access to her mouth. She melts into the kiss, encouraging him with a heavy, longing sigh.

Legs straddle both sides of his hips then, and her cool hands presses against the side of his face, nails gently scratching against his facial hair.

She delves in for a kiss, deeper than any they have shared before. He’s on fire.

Her fingers trail along the side of his face, down his neck, until her hands are resting on his chest, where his heart is pounding wildly against his ribcage.

He lifts her before things progress any further, positioning her body so that she's standing in front of him, blinking, all hazy green eyes and wild hair.

Wordlessly, his hands are on her hips, feeling for the waistband of her shorts, and he slides them off. She slips off her tank top herself and lets it fall to the ground beside her.

His mouth is on her belly then, pressing hot kisses against her skin. She arches into him, silently urging him on. Small hands find their place in his hair, massaging his scalp gently. He brings his hands to a rest at the small of her back. He tugs at the band of her underwear, teasing her by bringing his mouth down to the skin there.

Without warning, she pushes him back until he’s leaning against the bed, hoisting himself up with his forearms. 

Looking up at her, his eyes hold her stare, and hers seem to darken. With her red hair illuminated by the faint blue light from the motel sign just outside their window, she almost doesn’t look human to him. It makes him shudder.

And then her hands are on him again, resting on his shoulders as she returns to her position straddling his lap, and he’s pulled back to the moment. There’s an urgency in the way she touches him now, one that wasn’t ever there before, and he can feel themselves teetering somewhere between this primal place and a more delicate elsewhere.

Her fingers trace the harsh lines of his tattoo, her pale skin a stark contrast against the black ink. She stops at the nape of his neck, where the scar beneath the tattoo from where his brother had bitten him, the same wound he’d used to inject himself with poison. He could tell that she was thinking about it, and he hates it. He leans his head down to nuzzle - actually  _ nuzzle _ \- against her hand, and her eyes dart up to his. She forgives him by kissing him quickly, closing the space between them and pushing him down on the bed completely.

Kate continues to kiss him, feverishly parting his lips with her tongue. His hands run down her thighs and her feels her shudder at his touch, thrusting her hips against his waist. He’s not sure how much longer he’s going to be able to hold back, especially when she continues to thrust against him, increasing her pace each time she presses her mouth along the line of his jaw.

He tugs at her panties again and she sits up in order to pull them off, tossing the small piece of fabric to the side.

He still can’t get over looking at her like this, like it’s the only way he knows her. Like there isn’t nearly a year’s worth of distrust between them. Like for once, he’s not pretending he’s fine, or putting on a mask. For once, he just is.

There’s the girl he met, whose life he’d selfishly jeopardized, and there’s the woman in front of him now, whose world had somehow meshed with his own. 

He doesn’t deserve this, he knows it, but he knows he would like to.

He brings his arms up, cupping her face in one hand and tracing her soft features with the other. His finger brushes across her bottom lip and she opens her mouth, taking it in, gently nipping at it with her teeth.

With his finger still in her mouth, she brings her arm down between them, pulling down the fabric of his boxer shorts. He frees his own hands to aid her in the process, eager to feel her against him.

His mind is in a daze but he reaches over to the nightstand near the bed where he’d stashed the box of condoms, his hand stumbling in the dark until he finds one. She takes it from his grasp and rolls it onto him. If he was eager before, he’s practically impatient now.

It feels like an eternity passes between then and the moment she finally sinks onto him, though in all actuality, he knows it’s more like a matter of seconds. She moves around him and he thrusts back into her, the two of them setting a pace together.

Seth can’t believe how good it feels to have someone else take the reigns, like she’s the ocean’s waves lapping against his shore.

His hands fervently search her body, knuckles brushing up her sides, holding her steady as she rocks against him. His eyes fall to her chest and he allows his hands to go there next, cupping a breast in each hand, thumbs sweeping over her nipple. She mewls softly, breathing hitched, and she thrusts herself onto him harder. He repeats the action until she’s quivering around him, and he’s shaking in response, so high on this he’s sure he could feel almost anything just about now.

Kate slows her hips, trying to somehow return to the rhythm they had managed to set before. He can feel her legs shaking around his hips and he takes this as his cue to take the lead. He pushes her to an upright sitting position, one hand wrapped firmly around her waist and the other pressed against the underside of her bottom. With a little effort, he manages to get her on her back, her legs locked around his hips.

He lowers himself, guiding his way back into her, and almost blacks out at the realization of how close he is to the edge, to collapsing inside and on top of her.

Kate bites her lip to hold back a sob, but he pushes into her with more force than he intends, and she shouts something he thinks might be a little sacrilegious. He laughs, but it comes out low and deep, like groan.

It feels like she’s tightening around him, convulsing, and that’s when he’s done for, resting for a moment until he can catch his breath, his forehead pressed against hers.

She’s close too, he can feel it, so he discards his condom and then brings his hand down to feel her, using his hands to bring her to the brink and push her over the edge.

“Seth,” she whispers his name, and he realizes it’s the first coherent thing either of them have said in a while. 

She comes back down in spasms, and he brushes her hair off her face, some of it matted down to her forehead with sweat. He falls back in exhaustion.

Her hands find his in the dark as she brings her mouth to his and kisses him slowly, biting down on his bottom lip as she pulls away.

“I love you,” she tells him, for the first time out loud. She entwines her fingers with his, her eyes locked on the place where their bodies were joined now.

“I love you, too,” he says in response, because there is obviously nothing else to say. He can’t believe he’s awake, or even alive, for this. “Night, Kate.”

There’s still a lot of shit they have to deal with, and he knows those things will have to rise with the sun, but for now, this feels right. Whichever way he looks at it.

 


End file.
